


No Questions Asked

by Lots_o_Thoughts



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, F/M, Kidnapped Stiles, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 18:43:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7280305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lots_o_Thoughts/pseuds/Lots_o_Thoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Sheriff is taken as leverage against Stiles, it leads to Stiles meeting the Hale family, and a plot to take down Gerard Argent that ends in a way no one planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Questions Asked

Stiles is fucking sick of this shit, he doesn’t feel anger or pain anymore, just drugged numbness. He’s sick of being chained up like an unruly dog, he’s sick of being hungry, and he’s sick of people telling him what to do. All these fucking villainous assholes are convinced they can persuade him to do evil deeds by beating him and using half-assed magic. Well, Stiles dad was the Sheriff, legality’s in his bones. Bitch.

His dad was the Sheriff, before… before. Before, when he and Stiles lived together, and the world hadn’t descended into a pile of bullshit where hunter gangs looked for magical teen boys and made dads go missing. Stiles refused to believe that his dad was dead, he couldn’t be, Stilinski’s didn’t go down easy.

Pulling the chains away from the wall, Stiles heaved a sigh. He’d been drugged for the most part but had woken up about an hour ago. He’s sticking around just to try and figure out why he was kidnapped in the first place. Apparently the group of fuck-wits assumed he had no idea of his potential magical ability. However, Stiles isn’t an idiot, and his mom had been one badass spark, or iskra as his grandmother would say. Not to be mistaken for witches, who used spells and smelled like patchouli (okay, stereotype but whatever, it’s true eighty percent of the time). Spark’s pretty much think ‘It’d be cool if this one thing happened’ and then boom, it happens. With enough practice, thoughts become reality. It’s a lot more complicated than that, but Stiles knows those are the basics, can feel it in the beats his heart makes throughout his body. 

Today is the day, Stiles decides. He misses his dad, he misses Scott, he just wants out of this dark basement. Concentrating, he thinks about the metal chains breaking apart. Like Hulk he’d rip them, crush them to dust. Closing his eyes, Stiles let his mind become a pool, letting the magic ripple through on gentle waves. The effect is not so gentle. 

Snapping his eyes open, Stiles holds back a scream when he sees the manacles attached to his wrists and ankles blaze red. The veins in his neck bulge as he struggles to keep silent. Hunters apparently had tools for every sort of captive. 

“Shit,” he whispers. Stiles takes a deep breath, feeling tears well up in his eyes, but focusing again. He imagines the heat in the cuffs traveling down the links of the chains, burning hot and angry, melting away his confinement. Agony tears through him when he strains away from the chains but he feels one hand snap away. He allows a quiet sob while he keeps pulling until he’s lying unrestrained on the ground. Stiles presses his ear to the floor and listens to the press of feet on floorboards above him. He feels the stillness of the forest not too far away, but that only means isolation. People won’t find him once he’s out. 

Hearing footsteps approaching the door to his nightmare room, Stiles panics a bit, but gently reattaches the chains, even though it exhausts him further. The door bangs against the wall, vibrating with intensity similar to the man walking briskly down the steps.

From the moment Gerard had rolled into town months ago, Stiles got bad vibes from him. Scott said that Stiles made assumptions too quickly, but the Sheriff had merely nodded when Stiles expressed his dislike. The Stilinski’s are not quick to trust, and for Gerard those feelings proved correct. 

Stiles lifts his head and gives a toothy, probably bloody, smile. “Yo yo yo Gerard, what’s the haps? Eating the hearts of babies and terrorizing the public I hope.” 

“Mr. Stilinski. So cheeky for one whose time is so short.” Gerard gives him a soft smile and crouches in front of him. “By tomorrow we will have all that we need from you. Then you will end up like your father,” he reaches out and snags Stiles chin “dismembered and at the bottom of the ocean.” He says it with a straight face, his nonchalance terrifying and sincere. Stiles can’t believe him though, his father is alive. He has to be. 

Gulping against the rage, Stiles looks hard at Gerard and spits in his face. Gerard’s other hand whips out and grinds his skull into the gritty floor before Stiles can blink. 

“Too close to nature and one becomes a filthy little thing, Mr. Stilinski. Your mother was a perfect example, playing with the sun and earth and dying so tragic and small. Sick.” 

Stiles can’t resist the noise of outrage, he bears his teeth and wishes a death for Gerard so horrible he can’t begin to grind it out. That’s it though, they leave. Gerard thinks Stiles is weak, and Stiles laughs with a maniacal edge at the thought of being underestimated. They even leave the house, and Stiles smiles, because today is the fucking day. 

\- 

Derek looks out at the wide expanse of wood that surrounds his family’s vacation home, a few hours North of Beacon Hills. He glances to his left when Laura comes up next to him. 

“What’s so interesting D-Man?” Laura leans against her brother, he’s still like a statue and staring like the forest is gonna strip naked and sit on his face. 

“Something feels different today.” 

“In a good way?” 

He looks at her for a long time, and she can’t help but smile a bit. So morbid, her brother. Though their family faced hunters and magics and came out unscathed, Derek always seemed to think the worst was on the horizon. 

Looking back to the forest, he whispers. “Maybe.” 

\- 

Stiles breaks the chains once again, and drags himself so that he’s standing. Taking a deep breath he begins his ascent. 

Stairs suck, he decides while taking a breather halfway. He isn’t sure why he feels so tired all of a sudden, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he was still drugged, magically or otherwise. How else would he have lost so much time, it’d explain the blurred days and his distance from his magic at least. He gives the doorknob a jiggle after crawling up the rest of the stairs and slumps when he finds it locked. 

Touching the knob, he whispers, “Open.” Stiles is overwhelmed by relief when he hears the lock click, barely noticing the sweat drip down his face or his body starting to shake. After stumbling through the house he bursts into the pitch darkness of the forest.

He starts to run.

Okay, maybe not run. He’s walking like he’s eight shots deep but the point is that he’s getting out of there.

Stiles walks and walks, focusing on the crunch of leaves, the rough bark against his palms as he stumbles into trees, moving further and further from the hell hole he’d been locked in for a stretch of time that had no days or nights. 

The sky started to turn pink and he watches the color change while fumbling around roots and fallen branches. When he hears leaves crunch behind him his adrenaline slams, forcing his body to take off at a painful sprint. 

Swearing in time to his steps, his harsh breathing drowns out the sounds of the chase. It feels like he’s alone, the rush erasing the pain, but he’s running for freedom, not fun. All he wants to do is get away, screw these people for thinking he’s so easily beaten. His heart beats out a resolution, and he can feel the crescendo. Losing pace, Stiles feels his pursuers gaining on him. Struggling, his thighs burn, his entire body is a symphony of pain, he doesn’t want to be there anymore. 

With each desperate gasp of breath, Stiles wishes. For the warmth and reassurance of a hug from his dad, for a chance to continue school, for a the comfort of a friend. Stiles wished for this to finally end.

“Holy shit!” Stiles threw up his hands when a giant wolf flew out of the forest in front of him. Time seemed to slow as the wolf sailed over his head, revealing the soft gray of her stomach. Losing his balance, he tumbled to the ground. Hearing the wolf growl he scrambled to his feet and took off again. 

More wolves race past him, tongues lolling and paws thumping as they weave through the trees. Three run along side him, herding him to the left. 

“I’m not a sheep,” Stiles pants, only to have one wolf nip at his heels and another give a yip and speed up. 

Figuring that the wolf brigade was indeed his wish granted, Stiles pushed along, only stopping when he came to stand in front of a house that was huge and well kept.

He whipped around when he heard the continued crashing in the forest. The wolves surrounded him with raised hackles and menacing growls, facing the encroaching enemy. More wolves leapt from the dense forest, whirling and coming to stop in front of Stiles. 

The tense group stared at the dark forest silently. 

A boot emerged slowly, then a leg, and Gerard’s face came from the shadows like a bloated body bobbing to the surface in black water. Stiles swallowed painfully, reminded of Gerard’s claim about his father’s limbs in the sea. Hunters seeped out of forest and fanned out behind him. 

“This town isn’t big enough for the both of us, old man” Stiles wheezed. 

Gerard threw back his head and laughed. “You idiot child. Are you really willing to let all these innocent mongrels die trying to protect you? You have no family left, you’re worthless, come with us and be useful my boy.” 

Stiles heartbeat slams in his ears. His breath rattles through his broken body. Desperation is the only thing keeping him standing, because Stiles is done. Magic rocks through his body like an earthquake, shatters his soul and rips all rational thought from his mind. Golden fire erupts in front of Stiles merry band of wolves, molten like lava. Stiles doesn’t care when he sees terror cross Gerard’s face. Stiles guides the fire to chase Gerard and his minions through the forest. It heats the hunters heels and makes sweat bead their faces. He feels it race through trees and screams for all the things he has lost to Gerard Argent. 

He’s jerked out of his fiery retribution by one of the wolves grabbing the edge of his shirt and giving a sharp tug. His wrists dripping blood beneath the cuffs that kept him chained. Falling to his knees, Stiles gets one last blurry image of concerned faces before he passes out completely. 

\- 

Derek kneels above the boy whose magic races up his body in tiny electric shocks. “What… what is he?” 

Talia wraps a blanket around her shoulders while walking over the charred grass, “A spark, quite rare actually. We’ll have to ask him to restore the earth once he wakes up, and once we get those horrible binds off of him.” 

Derek gathered the teen in his arms, horrified as his head lolled back and his arms hung limp. The boys heart beat was steady, if not slightly faster than normal, feeling the effects of adrenaline even in the dead faint he had going on. 

Talia led Derek into the house, passing most of the family who stared wide-eyed at the pale figure clutched to Derek’s chest. 

The two make their way silently up the stairs, and Derek lays the ‘spark’ on one of the spare beds before turning to his mother. She looks at him for a long moment before turning her head to examine the sleeping boy. 

While Laura was more like their father, loud, happy and carefree, Derek takes after his mother. He feels the atmosphere of shared emotion as they both look at the beaten face of their guest. Furious anger blankets the air, thinking of Gerard’s face. Sorrow, for the boy would have scars and nightmares aplenty. 

Derek dresses silently while his mother sits on the bed, smoothing the boys hair out of his face, where it’s slicked down with sweat and blood. The moon shines on her face, illuminating the pinch in her brow and the darkness in her eyes. She silently gets up and runs a cloth under water in the bathroom joined to the bedroom. When she returns she sits on the edge of the bed and gently washes the dirt away from his face and arms.

“Could you call Deaton for me please, Michael?” Derek turns and sees his father standing silently at the door, gripping the door with white knuckles. 

“Deaton is three hours away, in Beacon Hills, and it’s two o’clock in the morning.” 

“We’ll be moving as soon as our young spark wakes up. Please call Deaton for me. Tell him to prepare for the removal of oppressive magic.” Michael’s lips press into a thin line, and it’s the first time Derek has ever heard his father sound reluctant to do his wife’s bidding. 

“Mom, what’s going on?” Derek kneels in front of his mother, forehead resting on her knees. She begins to run her hands through his hair. 

“It’s a long story, honey. It will make more sense once we move back to the preserve, where you were as a child. For now we should get some sleep.” 

“Move? Mom, we can’t just drop everything for some kid-” 

“Not just ‘some kid’ Derek. He’s also from Beacon Hills, and if the Argent’s are involved, then things aren’t right. We cannot let things run amok on our territory, it’s our responsibility to keep people safe, and we’ve failed.” 

“He’s not our responsibility.” 

“You’ll find he is our responsibility in more ways than one. Now off to bed.” She gives Derek a brisk pat on the back, and Derek trudges to his own room. Even though the soft sounds of his family’s safe slumber surround him, Derek can’t help but dwell on the stuttering restlessness down the hall. This boy is his family’s responsibility? His mind flashed back to the fire that chased the hunters through the darkness. The desperation in the scream the spark let out wasn’t angry or malicious, it more reminded him of the howl of a lost pack member.

Derek doesn’t notice falling asleep, but he jerks awake with a few of the more sensitive members of his family when he hears the mad scrambling in the Spark’s room. Up and moving before he even realizes, Derek pounds down the hall towards the frantic heartbeat. 

Laura is already there when he reaches the door, staring in wonder as golden light shimmers through the crack beneath the door. 

“What… what do you think is happening?” Laura’s hands are shaking, and Derek idly notes that it’s the first time he’s ever seen her frightened in their own home. 

“I don’t-” 

Derek is cut off by a crash, and the resounding silence that follows in the house indicates a climax to come. Practically ripping the door off the hinges, Derek forces his way into the room. The Spark looks at him, his eyes a swirling gold. Invisible winds tear at his gritty clothes and hair. The window next to the bed rattles, and the boy turns to it with an eerie sort of detachment. 

Before Derek realizes what he’s doing, he’s swept the boy up into his arms. 

“Derek? What the fuck?” Laura’s standing by the door looking horrified. 

“He was going to jump out the window.” How Derek knew with so much certainty he couldn’t say, but the kid slumps in his arms like he’s given up. 

Derek’s got his arms wrapped around the Spark, holding the boy up as he sags with exhaustion. Laura watches, amazed as the Spark’s head flops onto her brother’s shoulder. She finds his glowing eyes almost sickening, they look like they go on forever. Her brother is obviously taken with them though, and she gulps when he brushes a thumb underneath the kid’s eye. 

“I just want to find my dad.” 

Derek can’t help but jump a bit, they were in a weird sort of standstill until the boy had spoken. It’s then that his mom walks in. 

“First, you need to get cleaned up and ready to leave.” Talia claps her hands together and beams at her stunned children while the Spark lists towards the floor. Derek hauls him back up against his chest, hands slipping in the blood running down his captive’s arms. 

“Spark-” 

Stiles jerks at being called a Spark, having heard it so often while chained in the basement. “Stiles.” He manages to slur. “My name is Stiles.” 

Laura scoffs, “What the fuck kinda name is Stiles?” Derek is already dragging Stiles towards the bathroom with a curt, “Derek.”

Stiles stumbles along and replies, “Derek. Derek what? Derek smash? Derek need to go potty? Apparently Derek has a new toy Stiles that he can just drag around like one of those floppy-”

“We’re trying to help you, dumbass.” Derek cuts him off as he starts to try and tug Stiles shirt off. Talia and Laura watch with equal amounts of amusement and disbelief. 

“Whoa there handsy man. I’m a wine and dine type of guy, and let me tell you-”

Derek sighs in exasperation. To make it easier to take off the gritty clothes he’s picking Stiles up by the scruff of his shirt and propping him against the wall before he’s really thought it through all the way. 

Stiles eyes dilate immediately, and he’s gasping before Derek can do anything to stop him. He slumps to the floor while he has a flashback in bits and pieces. 

His head slams against the wall. 

“Stop, you fucking psycho! Do you want me to start bleeding into my brain?” Stiles says as he scrambles to grip Gerard’s wrists. 

“You’ll do as I tell you. I’ve asked you nicely Mr. Stilinski, but I’m more than willing to go and find your pathetic little friends to use as a bit of leverage.” 

Stiles head slams against the wall again when Gerard shakes him. 

Turning on his side, Stiles realizes there’s a toilet right next to him. ‘Oh, how convenient,’ he thinks before dragging his body up and promptly vomiting. The scarce food and water Gerard had given him coming back up painfully. 

His vision is blurry, but he can just make out the horrified expression of the girl in front of him. She’s equally disheveled, though less beaten than he is. 

“Are you alright?” She whispers, and Stiles watches as Gerard comes behind her. 

“Stop,” he says, “please, just fucking stop.” 

The girl touches him tentatively, and he gasps as he feels the power that thrums through her, it’s so similar to his own. “Why don’t you just do as they ask?” She questions. 

Stiles doesn’t have an answer, and Gerard is impaling her on a sword before he can say anything else to her. He never even learns her name. 

Laura stares in horror, after Stiles had vomited violently, he’d slumped to the ground and passed out. “What do we do?” She whispers. 

Talia looks unsure for a moment. “Let’s… let’s get him to the car, we’re driving to Beacon Hills.”

Derek stoops down to throw Stiles over his shoulder. He maneuvers through his family, who pause in their packing to watch as Derek carries the stranger away. 

Stopping next to her husband at the door, Talia says, “I’ll see you as soon as the rest are ready to go.” 

“Yes, dear.” Replies Derek’s father, and then they’re walking out the door. 

They take the mom-van. Derek gently lays Stiles on the seats in the very back, feeling guilty for causing the boy to have what were obviously distressing flashbacks. 

The entire ride to Deaton’s is silent. Three hours and no one says a single word. Which is impressive, considering it’s Laura, Talia and Derek in the car. There’s rarely a moment in which Derek and Laura don’t argue, but everyone is subdued. 

Talia can’t help but cringe when she pulls into the parking lot of Deaton’s veterinary clinic, there’s a lot of things she could have done differently when it came to the Spar-Stiles. Sighing, she puts the car in park when a young man comes running out of the clinic, Deaton close on his heels. 

“Scott! You have to calm down!” Deaton reaches for the boy when Talia sees his eyes flash yellow, and he snarls when he gets up in her space. Before he can do anything Laura is grabbing him by the neck and forcing him to step back. 

“Deaton? What’s going on?” Talia couldn’t be more confused, and it’s when Derek steps from the other side of the van with Stiles cradled in his arms that Scott loses it. 

“What have you done to him? Why do you have Stiles?” 

Deaton puts a reassuring hand on Scott’s arm, turning so he can look him in the eye. “Scott, this is Talia, Laura, and Derek. They’re helping Stiles, he escaped from Gerard the other night. Come inside, all of you. We have much to discuss.” Deaton leads Scott ahead of him and the Hale’s trail in a line behind him. 

Inside, Deaton gestures to a worn couch in the waiting room. Derek gently lays him down, tucking the blankets around him. The Hale’s watch in silence as Deaton pulls up a chair to begin carefully cleaning all of Stiles wounds and Scott collapses in a heap by Stiles head. 

There’s a few beats of strained silence and everyone jerks when Scott begins to sob and shake his head. “They said he was dead. I thought he was gone forever. No one even fucking looked for him because we all thought we’d find a body. Jesus. Jesus.” He folds forward to wrap a hand around Stiles chest and bury his head in his best friend’s shoulder. 

“What do you mean ‘they’? What’s been going on in Beacon Hills, Alan?” Talia has her arms folded over her chest, eyes flashing red. 

“Many things have happened in your absence, Alpha Hale.” 

Talia jerks at the formality, “What does that mean, Emissary?” 

“The Argent’s moved here about six months ago. With the pack out of town, Gerard decided to make some moves. He hired a young witch. She cast spells that made the townspeople complacent, so no one came to me with any report of shady goings on, and the Argent’s avoided me. For the first five months things seemed fine. The witch continued to cast low level spells that made the town more accommodating to the hunters.” Deaton paused at Stiles wrists, making a small noise at the sight of blood dried down his arms. 

“No one was suspicious, we were lulled into a false sense of security. I tried to contact you when the Argent’s arrived, but for some reason the call would never connect. I thought you were merely out of range, but lately it appears as though many things have been tampered with.” He pauses again to shrug his shoulders. “Two weeks ago, the Sheriff went missing, and Stiles showed up at my door. He told me he was being threatened, that his father was taken as leverage against him, so that Gerard could make use of his magic. I didn’t believe him.” 

Eyes track Deaton as he walks to the back room. He comes back with two jars of salve, more bandages, and a rack with an IV bag. He searches for Stiles vein, cleans the area and inserts the needle before sitting back down with a sigh to rub a minty green cream in a line down each cuff. Smoke rises as they sizzle and crack open, leaving Stiles torn wrists on display. 

Scott stumbles to his feet and retrieves a bowl with warm water without having to be asked. Deaton finishes cleaning Stiles wrists, putting the second, clear salve on and bandaging them tightly. 

“Needless to say, he disappeared the next day. Without his father around, it took a couple of days to realize he was missing. Scott demanded we confront the Argent’s, but when we asked for answers Gerard laughed and said that Stiles was dead.”

The Hale’s all have matching expressions of horror. “How could you not seek me out, Alan? You should have gotten us right away.” Talia’s hands shook with fury. 

“None of us could leave the town, Talia. Most of the people don’t feel any need to leave, because they’re under compulsion by the witch. When I tried to get out, wards were already up and blocking my way. The Argent’s have been laying low since Stiles and the Sheriff have disappeared.” 

Scott chokes a bit at the words, curling tighter around his friend. The whole room seems to freeze when Stiles huffs and pats the head next to his clumsily. 

“S’okay buddy. There’s no monsters in here, I’ll keep you safe.” Stiles mumbles. 

“Oh my god! Stiles!” Scott hovers over him, hands moving up and down his arms restlessly. 

“What’s up?” Stiles smiles a little before turning his eyes onto the people around him, and he remembers. “Are we back in Beacon Hills?” 

Deaton helps him sit up. “Yes Stiles. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen before.” 

Stiles waves him off. “You weren’t in your right mind. The Argent’s had been using manipulation magic for weeks.” Though Stiles wondered about that now, if he was immune to the magic, why wasn’t Deaton? 

Talia holds up a hand, “I’m still confused, how did Mr. McCall become a beta? Why can’t you break the wards Deaton?” 

Stiles licks his dry lips and waves a feeble hand in the air. “Scott was bitten about the time the Argent’s came. Deaton and I think it’s because the Argent’s had an Alpha locked up for some sort of evil villain plot. As for the wards, they’re the product of multiple witches, and they’re going to need some serious firepower to get rid off. We were working on it before the Argent’s kidnapped me.” That’s it, Deaton was just weaker than Stiles, no need to be so suspicious, Deaton may not be the most forthcoming but he wasn’t on Gerard’s side. 

“How did they kidnap you? Aren’t you some sort of wizard?” 

The room goes silent for a couple beats, Stiles just staring at Derek. He swallows and flicks his eyes to Laura for a moment before grabbing weakly at Scott’s face. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts he stammers out an excuse for his open mouthed gawking.

“What the fuck! Who is- are these supernaturally attractive creatures?” 

“They’re the Hale’s” Scott says through smushed lips.

Derek smiles, “The wolves that saved you.” 

Stiles stares for another beat before weakly throwing an arm over his face to hide a look of panic. “You are like beautiful sunshine people it’s a lot to take in right now. I feel like this is some horrible joke and I’m in an alternate universe where life is a sitcom and we get up to hilarious shenanigans.” 

“I would say it’s the painkillers talking, but I haven’t given him any.” Deaton sighs. 

“What, good doctor I demand the narcotics all up in this veterinary establishment.” Stiles claps a hand against the couch, desperate for something to take his mind off the fact that his fucking one-and-only, his other half is in the room. “Chop chop.” 

Scott sits down so his head rests near Stiles hand. “I missed you bro. I’m glad you’re alive.” 

Stiles flicks a finger against his friend's forehead. “I don’t die that easily, fool.” Scott pouts a bit while rubbing his face into the blanket. “They kidnapped me,” Stiles sighs and replies to Derek’s earlier question, “by pulling some serious military shit. I had the house all protected with wards, but I was distracted and trying to find my dad. They must have been waiting for me to mess up, because I forgot to check the wards before I went to bed, too exhausted to move, and boom- there they are, guns a-blazing.

“They drugged me and next thing I know I’m locked in a cellar.” Stiles shrugs, but narrows his eyes at Derek. “How did you know I needed help?” Would Derek know? His werewolf senses give him some sort of insight into his connection with Stiles?

Talia gestures to her son, “Derek said something was happening in the forest. When we went to investigate we heard you crashing through the shrubs.”

“Rescued by shrubbery. How appropriate.” Stiles pauses and looks at Derek for a long moment, his eyes seeming to glaze over. Derek’s aura consists of cool blues, dark greens, and a deep amber. “Why did only boy-wonder notice my epic romp through the shrubbery?” 

Derek shrugged awkwardly, “You’re loud.” 

Stiles head lolled to the side to give him an unimpressed look. “Well, excuse me.” 

“May I have a moment of your time?” Deaton cut in and pointed to the three Hale’s. “Scott, why don’t you help Mr. Stilinski get changed into some clean clothes while I have a chat with them.” 

“Fetch me my dressings, squire!” 

“Stiles! Stop being a weirdo and let me stick some clothes on your noodle body.” Scott said as he shook his head and left the room, Stiles flopping a useless arm after him.

Derek is closing the door to the main room when he meets Stiles eyes again. He can’t help but pause at how light of a brown they are even when Stiles isn’t overflowing with magic. Shutting the door, Derek cuts off Stiles cheeky wave and grin. 

Talia immediately spins on Deaton, poking a finger at him. He holds up a hand and gives her a look. 

“I know you still have many questions, but the Argent’s know you’re here. Do you know when the rest of your family will arrive?” 

“Actually…” Laura breaks in, “Dad texted me on the way here and said that it was only going to be him, Cora, Andrew and Eli.”

“What? Why?” Talia asked, shocked that only her husband and children would be coming.

“Because no one else wanted to get involved with some kid with the Argent’s out for his blood. They said it was too much of a risk.” Laura replies with a shrug.

“That’s not ideal, but it’ll work,” Deaton interrupted. “The Argent’s aren’t just going to let Stiles go, and they know that he’ll be desperate to find his father.” 

Laura sighs, “I don’t mean to be a pessimist, but how do we even know his dad is alive? If Stiles is so determined to give himself up for his dad, why shouldn’t we let him?” 

“Laura, can you imagine if it was our dad that had been kidnapped?” Derek asked.

“That’s exactly what I’m imagining! Our whole family is going to be under threat because of some kid, is it worth it?”

“Didn’t you see him? He’s half dead and terrified. You want to abandon him so that he’s all alone?”

Talia’s eyes flashed, “Stop it. Both of you. We’re not doing anything yet. I only wanted to get him to Deaton because I knew something was wrong. Nobody's making any rash decisions.” 

“Actually…” Deaton paused and rubbed his hands together. “It may be quite beneficial to make sure that Stiles is on your side. I would even go so far as to say it’s a death sentence to let him fall to enemy hands.”

Derek couldn’t keep the horrified look off of his face, how could his family discuss Stiles like he was so easily disposable? Some weapon to be debated on worthiness?

Deaton continued, “Stiles has a complicated history. His mother is what some refer to as a ‘Spark’, an individual with the natural ability to influence their surroundings. Sparks have a deep connection with nature, and historically have held very traditional beliefs about giving back to the Earth and appreciating the karmic flow of life. Thanks to his mother, Stiles was raised in a way that encouraged these beliefs. Already this would have made him a powerful Spark.”

“What are you saying? That Stiles is a Spark with a little extra?” Laura scoffs. 

“No.” Deaton gives her an unamused look. “I’m saying that Stiles isn’t only a Spark. His father’s soul basically works as a magic amplifier. He doesn’t have any magical ability, but his soul is compatible with magic produced by others. Be it witches, sparks, or other supernaturals.”

“So shouldn’t Stiles have been born with one trait or the other?” Talia asked. 

“In the few cases in which an Amplifier and a Spark have conceived a child, that has most certainly been the case.” Deaton replied.

“So what’s the difference then?” 

“Well, as far as I can tell those other children have been the offspring of an arranged marriage. Done for the purpose of passing on these powerful genes. In the Stilinski’s case however, they met and fell in love naturally, and if I’ve learned anything it’s to never discount the power of, as cheesy as it sounds, love.” 

Laura shook her head and murmured, “I can’t believe this.”

A crash sounded in the next room and all of their heads snapped up. 

“Stiles!” Scott bellowed. 

Derek was the first to crash through the door, stopping when he saw Allison Argent with a notched bow pointed at Stiles. The IV had made the noise when it fell to the floor, Stiles on the ground next to it. 

An arrow stuck through the couch where Stiles had been reclining. 

Scott crouched in front of Stiles. “Allison, what the fuck?”

“What do you mean Scott? You know we can’t trust Stiles, he and his father were protecting murderers!” Allison replied with a voice like ice. 

“They’re not murderers! You don’t know the whole story Allison, just listen please!” 

“No!” Allison bellowed, “He needs to be locked up, just like his father! They’ve done too much harm to Beacon Hills to be forgiven.” 

“Allison, wait please.” Stiles stumbled to his feet. “Are you saying you know where my dad is?”

Allison lowers her bow a bit, and looks at Stiles as if he’s stupid. “He’s at the station, they’re keeping him in a holding cell, like all the other criminals in Beacon Hills.”

Stiles knees go weak with relief, and Derek is there with a hand around his waist. 

Talia growls low in her throat, eyes flashing red. “Does anyone want to explain what’s happening right now? Because I’m feeling a bit out of the loop.” 

“Put down the bow, you foolish girl.” Deaton says, before turning to the rest of the group. “Maybe we should move this conversation somewhere with less chance of interruption.” 

“We can go to our house.” Talia decides with a nod. 

Scott’s already shaking his head, “I’m taking Stiles to my house.” 

“Uh, no you’re not. You think the Argent’s are going to let you two teenie boppers go anywhere?” Laura crosses her arms and looks at them sternly. She ignores the fact that Derek’s still holding onto Stiles, half curled around him and bearing his teeth at Allison. 

Stiles sighs, “Teenie boppers? Seriously?” He lets his head thump dejectedly on Derek’s shoulder. 

Derek pulls him a little closer. 

“Honestly I’m so fucking confused right now with everything that is happening, it’s not even worth it.” Laura throws her hands up and walks to the car. 

Talia rubs her forehead. “Derek, go with your sister. Stiles and Scott, you can drive separately but you’re following us to our house.” 

“But my dad-” 

“We’re going to sleep on this. No more talking about anything. Shush children.” 

Stiles stares, stunned and mildly offended as Talia sweeps out. Derek takes a moment to run his hands over Stiles head and neck with a stoic face before getting up and following her. 

The door shuts and it’s just Scott and Stiles, Deaton having mysteriously disappeared with a grumbling Allison. Also presumably to join the others at the Hale house. 

“So, what’s up with your lady love?” Stiles asks while slinging an arm over Scott’s shoulder so he can limp to the car.

Scott looks back at him with dejected eyes. “She’s convinced that you and your dad helping Isaac, Erica and Boyd equates to the start of an uprising.” He leans down to help Stiles into the seat, and they sit for a moment in silence before Scott pulls out of the parking lot. 

“How are they?” 

The question is soft, and Scott shakes his head a bit before replying. 

“They miss you and the Sheriff. We all tried to look for you, but once we got to your house and realized it was the Argent’s it was too late. The Argent’s made up some story about how Erica, Isaac and Boyd were responsible for the murders the Alpha caused when it escaped. You and your dad were apparently accomplices. No one questioned it, and when we went to try and figure out where you were Gerard took Erica and Boyd. It took Isaac and I a week before we could bust them out of the creepy Hunter basement.”

Stiles let his head thunk against the window. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but breaking his father out of the holding cell was numero uno on his list. Glancing over, he saw Scott’s hands clench around the steering wheel. 

“What’s up bud?” Turning he saw the pinched look on Scott’s face and bent over to make eye contact. “Seriously, what’s up?” 

“What’s up? That’s a great question, how about what’s up with you falling all over that Derek guy, huh?” Scott grimaced at the accusatory tone to his voice, but he didn’t want to talk about the time that Stiles had been gone. Didn’t want to look at the injuries Stiles had endured while Scott had uselessly grieved him.

“Derek?” Stiles says, taken aback. “I don’t-”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about Stiles.” 

Stiles sighs, technically Derek had been all up in his business, but Scott’s werewolf senses were picking up on the underlying connotations. “There’s an old story, about people who are meant to be together. People who are ‘soulmates’. It’s long, I don’t know if you want to wait until we’re with everyone.” 

Scott pulls the car over and turns to his friend, “Tell me.” 

Closing his eyes, Stiles settles in his seat and waves his hand in front of him. The air shines for a moment before the iridescent image of a girl in front of a green landscape appears. She’s similar to Stiles with brown hair and oddly light brown eyes. It takes shape and distorts for a moment when she becomes engulfed in a bright golden light. 

“There once was a woman, her name was Dusza. She was loved by many in her village, but felt a desire to travel. Believed to be wanderlust, she set out over land and sea. Led by her magic she met many people and tried new cuisines and experienced life in ways she never imagined.”

The picture whirled as Dusza danced and laughed, she twirled as the faces of people she met flew by in colorful wave. 

“However, no matter how many people she met, she never found somebody with a light similar to her own. Many people had dull lights, one’s that were subdued blues and greens. No one had a light that shined so bright.” 

Weary faces watched as Dusza walked through a village, their colors mixing and blending. Dusza outshined them all, her light pulsing and curling in wisps. 

“So she continued on, growing saddened by her travels. She had gone so far, but she still felt as though she needed to go further, searching for something forever out of reach.”

Dusza slumped to the ground, her dress a once vibrant red dulling to brown. Her light pulsed out from her for a moment, before pulling in and becoming more compact. As if protecting her.

“Dusza felt discouraged, and wondered what all her wandering had been for, if she felt so alone. In her moment of weakness, a man appeared. She immediately noticed his lack of light, and was intrigued.”

The man was handsome, and he bent down to Dusza with a charming smile.

“Miss, don’t you wish for your pesky light to disappear?” He asked. “Maybe then you would find people like you.” 

Dusza was unsure, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and bit her lip. “Would I really find people who would want to be with me?”

“Oh, you’ve already found people who want to be with you. You’re looking for the match to your light.” He inched closer, reaching a hand to lay on her cheek. 

Dusza’s eyes widened. Someone who was the same as she was, it sounded nice, like the home she’d been searching for. 

She turned her eyes to him, and his hand touched her forehead. 

The image warped painfully, Dusza’s light dimmed and she screamed, the sound tinkled through the car as Scott gasped. 

“Stop!” A man popped into the image, his light spreading to wrap around Dusza’s. Together the lights shined and danced, snapping and crackling like electricity. 

The lightless man was thrown back, sliding into the dirt. 

“Miss,” the man with Dusza’s shared light took her hand and knelt next to her. “My name is Wilk, and I’ve been looking for you for a very long time.” 

Dusza gasped, for names are a powerful thing, and not to be given out lightly. There were not many dangerous people in the villages, but names were still whispered secrets shared between lovers. 

Forgetting their guest, Dusza replies, “And my name is Dusza. I’m so happy you’ve found me.” Sparks showered from their shared light, and they smiled. 

The man with no light stood, and he laughed, the chill frosting the land around them. The image’s sky darkened and wind blew so that Dusza’s hair and dress whipped around her. 

“Lovers,” He spat. “So quick to believe that everything is right when you find your soulmate.” His eyes burned a painful white, and his voice rumbled.

“Dusza. Come to me.” 

Dusza found herself taking stumbling steps towards the terrifying image of a man. Wilk grabbed her hand and pulled so that they were angled facing each other. 

Wilk brushed his lips against her forehead. “Dusza, will you help me so that he can never harm a being again?” 

Dusza nodded. Reaching deep she brought out her Spark, as did Wilk. Their light’s became pinpoints in their hands. 

The man’s white eyes flickered, but he just screamed louder. “Dusza! Forsake the man, come to me so that we may become powerful. You will want for nothing. You could be young forever, just come to me!” 

Dusza looked back at him, her own eyes a molten gold. She cupped her hands around Wilk’s, and their Spark’s light speared through their fingers like the sun. “I have everything I could ever ask for.”

Their light reached the clouds and broke them apart. The man screamed as the light left his eyes, his face withering to reflect his true age. He crumpled to the ground, the strength he harvested returned to nature. 

Dusza was sad to see her light disappear along with Wilk’s. “Oh no! Now we’re just like that man.” She said. 

Wilk laughed and hugged her. “Those were just the light’s showing us how to reach one another! We’ve lost our Spark’s, but maybe I can replace the empty space?” He winked. 

Laughing, Dusza replied, “Only if I may replace yours!” 

It was later that Dusza found out that not everyone could see these lights, that her and Wilk had been exceptions. The reason people in village’s looked at her strangely had been because she was so beautiful and traveling alone. When she returned home with Wilk, people confessed that she had seemed strange. So intense in her need to travel and wander that she left people behind who were heartbroken. Their life flashed by, colorful images of happy magical children who turned into happy, married adults, though some led lives running from threats, people who wanted to harvest their magic. Stiles struggled to stop the onslaught of his family’s history, as more and more images of Spark’s being hunted flashed. 

Stiles sighed, and the image of Wilk and Dusza happy and laughing pulsed once with bright golden light before fading. 

He looked at Scott, whose mouth was agape and eyes wide. 

“Are you telling me that you can fucking see people’s souls and that Derek is your soulmate? Is that what that long ass story was about?” 

“People stopped telling the story, no one believed in magic or soulmate’s so no one would listen.”

“Why did you look so much like Dusza?” 

“It’s a story that’s been passed down for generations in my family. She’s my ancestor.” Stiles waved his hand again and a shimmering image of Dusza smiling appeared. “This is old magic, I just have to think of the story and it pops up.” 

“Stiles. Stiles. How long have you been able to see souls? Are you kidding me?” 

Stiles shrugs, uncomfortable. “When they took my dad it’s like everything got out of control. It was just smeared colors for a while. I didn’t understand what was happening.”

Scott pauses at that, looking at how tired and strung out Stiles was. He hadn’t had a shower since Gerard had taken him, most likely. He rests his head on the steering wheel. “Derek though? I’ve met him for like a half an hour and he scares the crap out of me. Plus he’s old.”

“Yeah, Derek.” Stiles huffs as a Camaro whips off the road and pulls in front of Scott’s car. Derek’s angry face in the drivers seat. Stiles rolls down the window and smiles as Derek approaches.

“Derek what?” He grunts out when he reaches the car. 

“Derek Mc-Grumpy-Pants that’s what.” Stiles said while tapping Derek on the chest through the window. 

He scowls harder for a moment before grunting, “You’re taking too long.”

Scott leaned over, “Sorry Hale I was just chatting with my best friend. About important things that involve being best friends.”

Stiles stared incredulously at Scott for a moment before flailing open-mouthed. 

“Hurry up.” Derek said, unamused. 

“Sure thing, boss.” Stiles saluted. 

He immediately turned to smack at Scott. Scott cringed away while putting the car in drive. “Dude, stop. Stop Stiles! Ugh, you suck.” 

“Take the beating like a man. You traitor.” Stiles gave one last good smack before turning and pouting in his seat. He didn’t need Scott acting like a rude butthole to his… soulmate… thing, person. Whatever. 

“So, since when did Allison decide to fall hardcore into the hunter persona?” Topic change! A topic change that involved Allison had a one hundred percent chance of distracting Scott.

“Allison,” Scott turned sad eyes on him, “The Alpha bit her mom, and her mom decided stabbing herself in the stomach was better than being a monster.” 

“Whoa, hold up. First of all, she stabbed herself because of some sort of messed up code. You’re not a monster just because now you’re part wolf. That’s ridiculous.”

Scott shrugged a bit. Well, that just wouldn’t do. Grabbing his friend's arm, Stiles tugged until Scott was looking at him. 

“Werewolves are not monsters. Monsters destroy things. All you do is sniff your butt and roll around in the dirt.” 

“Stiles, just. Ugh. Ugh.” Scott tugged his arm away and rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. 

“So, her mom kills herself, and Allison goes off the deep end into the hunter funtimes ballpit.”

“I don’t understand you sometimes. Basically, Allison’s the new head of the family. I think Gerard has been messing with her and Chris though. Everything changed the minute he rolled into town.”

 

“Well, no duh.” Stiles huffed as they pulled into the Hale’s driveway. He hasn’t seen Chris since being taken by Gerard. Chris always seemed reluctant when around his father, watching the man with narrowed eyes and a suspicious set to his mouth. Stiles should get in contact with him, but his exhausted mind was barely processing no longer being in the basement torture room. 

Derek is waiting outside when they pull up, and he walks over and grabs Stiles under his armpits to lift him out. 

“Derek!” Stiles squeaks, “I got it dude. I’m good.”

His only response is to get pushed towards the house. Derek crowding him in and up the stairs to the shower. The lightest blush stains his cheeks, and his shoulders hunch in as he internally questions his need to physically pull Stiles from the car. 

“There’s clothes in there.” He says while giving Stiles one final push into the bathroom.

“Not much of a talker, are you big guy?” 

This time the only response Stiles gets is a door slammed in his face. 

Derek takes his time walking downstairs, hesitant to reach the harsh discussion his family seems to be having with Allison. 

Walking into his living room is like walking into a war zone, Allison is standing off against his mom and Laura with righteous fury. 

Scott’s slumped on the couch next to Allison, head in his hands. “Allison, Stiles is my best friend. I know his dad and him had nothing to do with what happened when the Alpha escaped.” 

Allison’s voice is shrill when she answers, her body shaking with desperation. “I know you don’t want to believe that Stiles could do something like that, Scott. However, his powers have the potential to go out of control. He’s more than capable of killing those innocent people.”

“Allison!” Scott’s voice is hard, and sad. “Gerard has fed you a bunch of bullshit. Stiles isn’t dangerous, it’s not even common for Sparks to go out of control. If they do it’s usually justifiable defense. It’s in the bestiary, you know this. Your grandfather just wants to use him!”

“You’re lying!” She screams. 

“He’s using you too! You said your dad didn’t trust him, so why should you? You know it doesn’t make sense, but you don’t want to believe it.” 

“My grandfather wouldn’t make me hurt innocent people! He wouldn’t kidnap the Sheriff, or Stiles, if he didn’t have a good reason for it. Right? He wouldn’t do it. I- He wouldn’t make me hurt people unless they were dangerous. He wouldn’t.” She’s crying now. 

Scott’s up and hugging her before anyone can say another word. “It’s okay Allison. No one blames you. It’s Gerard. No one blames you.” 

“They have a right to” Allison seems to pull herself together a bit at that. She wipes her eyes and shifts a little when she realizes everyone is staring. 

“Erica, Isaac and Boyd may need some retribution, but Stiles definitely doesn’t.” Scott pulls her down on the couch next to him, tucking her underneath his shoulder. 

Derek listens up stairs for a moment, making sure Stiles is okay in the shower. Considering he hasn’t bathed since god knows when, a long shower is the least the Hales can give him.

Talia sighs, obviously gearing up to say something when they hear a car pull into the driveway. They tense for a moment before hearing Eli and Andrew bickering in the car. 

Derek goes to the door, and opens it for the rest of his family to file in through. His dad gives him a clap on the back, Cora sweeps past him with barely a glance. Eli and Andrew bring up the rear. 

“Derek, our surly sibling. What have you gotten yourself into?” Eli’s eyes sparkle with mischievous mirth. 

“Yes, yes brother dear. It seems you’ve made life quite exciting, and we can’t thank you enough.” Andrew continues. “This summer has had zero mayhem, and while you would be the last on my list to rectify that, you have exceeded expectations.” 

Derek took a moment to glare at each brother. People often said that it was near impossible to tell them apart. With scent it became obvious which twin was a werewolf and which was not. 

“This isn’t a game, or some sort of twisted entertainment for you two.” He growled. 

“Oh, but how wrong you are.” Andrew and Eli said in unison. 

“Andrew! Eli! Stop harassing your brother and come here.” Talia called from the living room.

Andrew was already bounding into the room, head tilted up as he sniffed the air. Eli followed a bit more sedately. Together the two were a disaster waiting to happen, but Derek appreciated Eli when he was alone, calm and collected. 

Stiles was walking down the stairs when they reached the living room, raising an eyebrow at the new visitors. Andrew went over and wrapped him in a bear hug, lifting him off the ground and carrying him to where Eli and Derek stood. 

Flailing as much as he could, Stiles huffed indignantly when faced with Eli. The rest of Derek’s family stood aside and talked in low tones. 

“Look Eli. A cute new little brother for us, just what we’ve always wanted.” Andrew exclaimed. 

“Hey!” Stiles was honestly so confused, and just tired of being dragged around places. He was starving, he was about to float away, just skin and bones into the heavens. “I have a family thank you very much.” 

“Really?” Andrew dropped him, and he stumbled right into Derek who steadied him. “Cause you smell hurt and pack-less. Just ripe to be taken in for a little tender love and care.” His face split in a wolfish grin.

Stiles decided to ignore him, because what? Who are these crazy people. Who cares is the real question, because all Stiles cares about is an extra large cheese pizza being available right that second. 

He moved over to Deaton, and gave him sad eyes. “I’m hungry.” 

Deaton pulled out a protein bar from his bag and handed it to him. Eh, it’ll do. 

“I’ll order pizza.” Scott said while pulling out his phone. 

“My hero!” Stiles threw up his arms in celebration, wiggling over to Scott until he realized Allison was sitting right next to him. “Hey Allison. What’s up?” Scott paused to watch their interaction in case he needed to run damage control. 

Allison stared at him for a moment before grabbing his hand. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I never meant to hurt you, but when everything was happening, I didn’t know what to do. I- My mom tried to talk to me before she died, but I didn’t listen. So, I thought I should listen to my family, but I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have trusted my grandpa.” Tears are threatening to slip out of her eyes, and whoa. Stiles is not about to let the strongest girl he knows cry in front of him because she has some shitty family. 

He pulls her into a bone grinding hug. “It’s okay Ally. You don’t have to say sorry. It’s okay. Your grandpa is a bag of hairy butts, it’s not your fault.” 

Once Allison had calmed down, Stiles turned to Talia. “I want to go to the station tonight. My dad is there, I just want him to be safe.” 

Allison flinched away from him, pulling in on herself again. Stiles deflated before she even began. “I texted my grandpa, and said that you knew the Sheriff was at the station. He would have… the Sheriff will have already been moved. I’m so sorry.” 

 

Stiles drew a shaky breath, pressed his lips together tight before getting up and walking to the door. 

Derek grabbed his arm, “Where are you going?” 

He snatched his arm away and turned golden eyes on Derek. The door whipped open before Stiles got close, and outside the wind and leaves whirl around the cars. Storm clouds moved in, thunder booming when Stiles let out a scream of frustration. It lasted a few terrifying seconds before he was crumpling to the ground. 

Deaton shook his head from where he was standing beside Derek in the doorway. “He should wake up in a bit. He’s exhausted himself.”

“Is that how the magic works?” Eli pops up between them. “Using Stiles physical energy?” 

“In a way. It physically exhausts Stiles to use his Spark. When’s he’s healthy mentally and physically is when he’ll be at his strongest. Right now he’s desperate and pulling at reserves. It’s unstable and his outbursts don’t last very long. It’s also why Spark’s aren’t known for being dangerous, their abilities are a lot stronger when they feel safe.” Deaton explained while Derek carried Stiles into the living room. 

Allison looked heartbroken when he laid Stiles out on the couch. “I didn’t mean… I thought his dad was dangerous, but I didn’t mean to mess everything up.” 

“Stiles is just having a hard time coping, and will probably continue to. He needs to rest and recuperate, but he’s desperate to see his father again.” Deaton put a hand on her shoulder and gave a bland smile. 

Stiles rolled over and practically jammed his body into the crevice of the couch. 

“Maybe we should take a break for today as well. I don’t know how much can be done at the moment. How much does your grandfather know, Allison?” Deaton asked as gathered his jacket and prepared to leave. 

“I told him Stiles was back, but I didn’t mention anything about the Hale’s. He’ll find out sooner rather than later though. I think the wards around town activate when someone enters. I just don’t know what kind of information he has.” Allison shrugged a bit helplessly. “He hasn’t been very forthcoming with his plans lately.” 

Michael, Derek’s father, shook his head. “So you have no idea what your grandfather’s larger plot is here?”

Allison shook her head vigorously, staring hard at the man. 

“Well,” said Michael, “why don’t we get some pizza?”

Derek stared in disbelief as Eli and Andrew jumped around yelling their choice toppings. His father clapped him on the back with his lips pressed in a grim line. 

“There’s nothing we can do right now, we may as well eat something and wait for the boy to wake up.” 

And so they order pizza, and Derek sits with his family while they talk and laugh about the ways their other family members refused to help. Their extended family tended to be dramatic, and it seems there was a lot of yelling, stomping, and storming out of the house. Derek and his family were gathered in the kitchen while Stiles continued to snooze on the couch. Deaton had left silently, after softly recommending Allison to stay with the Hales and Scott, where it will be “safer.” 

Derek still has so many questions for Stiles, and he can see Scott glaring at him every time he glances at Stiles prone body. His mind flashes back to the retreat with his family. With so many children growing up, it was good to get away for a while, they thought they had been safe moving away for a couple of months. Deaton had assured them that the Nemeton was balanced and that he would alert them to any problems. So they took a break where they could transform whenever they want, grill some burgers and enjoy the weather. 

Apparently they had left Beacon Hills vulnerable and alone. 

He glanced back at Stiles. 

Beacon Hills, they had left Beacon Hills behind so the town had to fend for itself. 

With everything happening he hadn’t remembered to eat. Shit. His stomach rumbled as the smell of pizza wafted closer to the door.

A moment before Andrew ripped the door open, Stiles sat up with a gasp, his eyes shining that odd color. 

The pizza smell dissipated and revealed the werewolf scent of the delivery guy, his Pizza Hut cap pulled low over his eyes and a wicked smirk on his face. Derek half expected him to pull a gun out of the pizza box and say delivery. 

Instead the huge guy opened the box and dumped the, extraordinarily hot, pizza in Andrew’s face. 

Everyone stared in stunned silence as Andrew was slammed against the wall and two other werewolves followed the delivery guy into the house. 

“Boyd! What are you doing?” Scott called out frantically.

Laura threw her hands up in exasperation. “I fucking swear, if one more person comes bursting in it’s no questions asked. I’m taking a bitch out and screw everything else. This kid is just apparently too fucking popular.” She ripped Boyd off of Andrew and threw him across the room, back thumping against the wall painfully next to Derek.

Stiles was up off the couch, despite Talia and Michael both making a grab at him. “Isaac, what do you think you’re doing?” Stiles hands came up in front of him and he touched the air surrounding Isaac. Shimmering silver wards came into existence, and Isaac growled as Stiles flicked across them like a touch screen. His fingers unraveled the magic, leaving wisps of silver smoke curling from where they held Isaac locked in a cage. His claws started to recede, and he whispered “Stiles,” before being tackled by Andrew. 

Boyd rushed Stiles from behind picking him up by the waist and heading towards the door. Derek struggled to shake himself out of his stupor, everyone was just watching what was going on, a befuddled look on each face. 

Stiles twisted painfully in Boyd’s arms so that he’s facing him and wrapped his legs around Boyd’s waist. The wards appeared, more interlocked and complicated than Isaacs. More than one witch is working with Gerard then, thought Stiles. His fingers flew in front of Boyd’s face, clawing away at symbols as Boyd fumbled and slowed down. The wards would grow and replace themselves, making it nearly impossible for Stiles to get to the root and unravel it. Finally he created an opening, his fingers cramping from flicking through lines of magic so quickly. He had to grab the edge of a hole he’d created in the spell and rip through the remaining barriers with physical strength. 

Derek struggled to Stiles where he was wrapped around the larger werewolf. Stiles looked as if he was tearing through air, and causing the werewolf pain by doing it. The werewolf fell to his knees as silver smoke rose up around him, filling the room with the bitter smell of failed magic. He still had Stiles wrapped all around him, basically in his lap, when he slumped down and barely gasped out “I’m so glad we found you.” 

Stiles slumped back onto him, reaching a tired hand out to where Erica was standing. She’d been facing Laura the entire time, but neither of them were moving, simply staring at each other. With the last of his strength Stiles unraveled a weak link in Erica’s wards and she slumped to her knees too. 

Isaac threw Andrew off of him, and scrambled towards Stiles, Erica following closely behind him. They huddled together and whispered reassurances, while the Hale family looked on in a confusion that was rapidly approaching exasperation. The group of three that had attacked the Hale’s home didn’t seem to care or be repentant, instead solely focusing on Stiles and looking him over for injuries. 

Talia was so tired of this. This one child had brought mayhem from every corner of Beacon Hills into their home.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I'm actually posting something I've written. 
> 
> Tumblr: sophjohnson.tumblr.com
> 
> Twitter: @s_weezay


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